


where I find your face

by xladysaya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, castaway, lost at sea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xladysaya/pseuds/xladysaya
Summary: Right now the stars are his only comfort, along with the sea and its slow rocking. Even with those things to surround him, nothing will ever beat Tsukishima’s arms.Nothing will ever come close.





	where I find your face

**Author's Note:**

> So the impulse to write a weird fic came to me last week, and luckily it ended up being short lol I don't have much to say about this fic other than krtsk love each other pfftt also it was exciting to try some new things with this??
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

Forty days out at sea, and Kuroo feels himself giving in.

Dazed, his fingers graze his forearms slowly, gliding over the sun's damage. The skin there peels and chafes, like the scales of a fish, covered in the salt of the sea. Maybe he's slowly adapting, and in the next life, he'll simply be reborn as some kind of fish.

He hopes it's a bass. Tricky bastards.

Swallowing, he coughs. His throat has gotten so dry, and the sound startles him so much he flinches. It's the most he's moved in a long time. His feet, exposed after his shoes had long been worn away and waterlogged, are as burnt as the rest of him.

They’re preserved only by the massive amounts of salt, from Kuroo's attempts to either catch fish or swim towards islands that weren't there.

Only to return to this boat.

Salt, ocean; they're so consuming, Kuroo takes it in with every breath. The smell and taste of fishbones and kelp. Yes, the sun has also become his enemy, along with the annoying squawk of seagulls and the occasional, splashing movement of something behind him.

Whenever he looks, there's never anything there.

He's learned to live with it.

It's quiet around him now, the trickling of water off the bow the only thing which reminds him his world isn't entirely stripped of sound. It happens about every 21 seconds, after his many attempts at counting.

It drips, and then the ocean settles again, rocking the boat smoothly. Kuroo expects nothing more by this point, but it's not all so terrible.

Right now, by some miracle, the ocean is black. A darkness stretches out in all directions until he can't do anything but imagine what the horizon must look like. He feels like it's been night for too long now, but he's gotten poorer at counting the hours. That, or maybe the universe is granting him one last peace of mind.

Most people would hate it, he imagines. There’s no light, whether candle or lamp, just the endless waters ahead of him. But pitch-black, it isn't.

With slow, fatigued movements, Kuroo casts his head up towards the star battered sky. Millions of them, mimicking the skyscrapers and helicopters of the city. They shine, blinding, and the moon joins them. A thousand times better than any sun.

It echoes a million soft memories, this likely last view of his, and while he knows there's nothing medicinal radiating off those fiery space rocks, he feels healed. If only for the moment.

When had they gotten stuck, he wonders. When had he started having so many regrets?

He thinks of blond hair and a body next to his; his love deserved to be safe.

Being stuck on a boat for forty days gives one a lot of time to think, and Kuroo tends to think too much already. The amounts of  _should'ves_  and  _could'ves_  in his thoughts is worse than seasickness, twisting his stomach inside out almost hourly.

He'd give anything to bring them home, safe, the start of a new life.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself already," Tsukishima's voice drifts from the other side of the boat, and Kuroo follows it like a beacon. Tsukishima's shoes had survived their suffering, he can't help but note. Though, Tsukishima always looks perfect to him. Well-kept hair, complete set of clothes... Kuroo's heart truly is a slave.

He watches as the blond sighs, squinting at him as he hugs his knees close to him. He must be cold, but Kuroo can't make a move to touch him. "You didn't ask to be shipwrecked, Tetsurou."

Ah, always worrying.

Tsukishima's head falls into his arms, nestled by the soft sweater, and Kuroo can't help but smile. Tsukishima knows Kuroo's weird, twisted desire to blame himself for everything.

Of course, in this case, the blond is wrong.

Kuroo knows this isn't his fault. In fact, no one on that ocean liner really knows whose fault it was, and most of them never will. He hasn't come across any other survivors, and he hasn't read a newspaper in over a month.

All he remembers is a loud crash, an explosion, and then frigid water in his lungs.

Even now, he feels the ghost of the ship, miles and miles below the water, a fate unavoidable.

"It's not about that," Kuroo finally answers, still smiling out at the expanse of ocean. "Besides, it's a pretty view, no?"

He tries to grin, but Tsukishima stares back, the same old frown on his soft, unblemished face. Kuroo likes to think his smiles are more contagious, but Tsukishima is the one person Kuroo can't overcome 100% of the time. Slowly, Kuroo's smile turns into a frown to match.

Tsukishima keeps his distance. "What's wrong?"

It makes Kuroo want to dissolve into the ocean, the light fluctuation in Tsukishima's voice. It says  _'give in, you can talk to me'_  and it's the foundation of their relationship.

It's hurt too. It's devasting, because if this is really Kuroo's last night of life, he might as well say everything on his mind. Why die with words unspoken to the person he cares for most in the entire world?

His stomach feels hollow, so hungry, but he'd given up on fishing. His muscles can't do it anymore. There's no space to spread out, there's no fresh water. Kuroo can't even cry, it stings the burns of his cheeks.

He doesn't know what to do, other than come clean.

With a scratchy throat and teary eyes, he rocks in place, trying to force the words out. They echo like a child's sob, uninterrupted by the sea. Even the bow stops dripping. "I um...I wanted t-to, tell you I'm sorry," he laughs, but it's not real, the light-hearted sound bogged down by a bitten lip and tear ducts that desperately want to work. "I'm so sorry, Kei."

Tsukishima watches him, eyes as wide and vibrant as the day they met. They beat the stars, the moon too. Kuroo only wishes he could've made them light up with all their potential, not get marooned here on this boat. "I was going to do so much," he says, his hands aching as he lifts them. The skin, cracked, protests. But it doesn't stop him from saying what he should've vowed a long time ago. "We were going to get married."

At least then, he'd have a wedding band on his finger. Black, like the sea, and bold enough for people to notice. Something special they could bury him with, if they ever found him. Tsukishima too, but silver for him.

It felt fitting.

Across from him, Tsukishima chuckles, and ah, Kuroo loves the sound. "So bold of you to assume I'd say yes," the blond says, and it's harmless. The joke itself is that they both know he'd say yes in a heartbeat, before Kuroo even got the question out. As his mirth dies down like the waves, Tsukishima whispers, gentle, a salve to Kuroo's wounds. "Why didn't you?"

As cooling as the remedy is, it also stings, fighting the infection of Kuroo's mind. These are painful things for him to talk about, but Tsukishima knows he has to. He will.

The hardest part is, all his excuses are pathetic. "I was afraid I wasn't good enough yet," he admits, and he shakes his head at his own youthful stupidly.

_Youthful_ , because he is only twenty-five, but he's aged a year each day. He'd only been up and coming in the world of high-society. All his thoughts circled around the concept of  _good enough_. His job hadn't been good enough, his pay not good enough, his title not good enough.

Certainly, not good enough for Kei.

He kept putting their engagement off, until he could guarantee stability, but now...

When he pitifully mumbles "it wasn't the right time" to the boy across from him, it hits him how foolish he'd been. Now they'd never get married, and there's no one out here to seal the union.

Now they were here, stuck.

And Tsukishima, with all his beauty and logic, knows best. He's not trying to pour salt into the wound, it's already been done enough, and literally. But this is lighthearted, an extra dose of Kuroo's medicine. It's how Tsukishima talks to him when Kuroo gets too worried about work, too bogged down, too out of his head. "But when is the time then?"

Shaking from the cold of midnight, Kuroo looks up, to see Tsukishima's face as lovely and caring as ever. And in the one question, he hears the answer; there is no right time.

No matter what time Kuroo asked for Tsukishima's hand, they would've been just as happy, just as in love.

His pride takes another immense hit along with his heart as he stares at the person he loves, and wishes he could weep.

"Now you're here, you waited too long," Tsukishima says, shaking his head fondly. Kuroo half expects him to reach over, to caress his hair or pull him into eternal sleep once and for all, but the tone, the phrasing...it's not like Tsukishima. It sounds too much like Kuroo, talking to himself.

Confused, his mouth runs drier than before, open like a fish searching for water. "... _I'm_  here?"

_But...we're here, together._

When Tsukishima's hand finally moves to rest against his wrist, Kuroo feels nothing. Not soft, smooth skin, nor scaliness. He can't stop staring at Tsukishima face, his smile a promise of things Kuroo has stopped hoping for. "Just remember Tetsurou, if you don't act, you'll always run out of time."

Kuroo chokes; he's heard the words before. From his own mouth, back when Tsukishima was still just an acquaintance, someone with perhaps an unhealthy interest in Kuroo given their status as strangers.

Yet, little did they know, they'd both noticed each other. All they'd needed was a push.

Kuroo stares and stares, but he can't move. He can't scoop Tsukishima up in his arms, or feel his touch. He just feels the boat rock slowly, rhythmically, as the water beats against it.

"And besides," Tsukishima finishes, the barest hint of a giggle in his voice. There's a bit of water in his eyes too, and Kuroo recognizes it. That's the Tsukishima he knows. "I'll always be happy with you."

Kuroo gets one tear to spill; it carries the weight of a million and stings his skin. When he looks back up, blinking, Tsukishima is gone.

There's the ocean, and the salt, and the stars. So much dimmer than before, but that goes for everything. The wounds on his skin don't burn as much, his limbs feel freer, the heaviness of his mind has lifted. It's not a bad trade.

After all, what are stars, compared to his Kei?

As he lays down, he can't help but laugh. A genuine one, Tsukishima would surely slap him for the romantic thought.

Despite all this, he really does believe he's losing his mind, if it's not lost already. Alone on this boat...for how much longer? How long will he be stuck here?

He doesn't know, as much as a small part of him dares to hope. And he'll keep hoping, in that small corner of his heart, if only to keep his promise to the Tsukishima of his mind.

Waiting for Kuroo, on whatever plane of existence.

As he curls in on himself, the harsh wood of the boat's floor scratches his cheek, and he curls his hand. He's thinner now, but he still thinks a wedding band would fit nicely, snug on his finger.

It's quiet now, without the phantom of Tsukishima's voice, and Kuroo closes his eyes.

Forty days out at sea, and he feels himself giving in.

But when he closes his eyes, the regret lulls him to sleep, the hope that Tsukishima knows how much Kuroo loved him.

He drifts to sleep like that, in the darkness, and thinks of Tsukishima's arms around him.

\--

The ship that picks him up is red. That's all he remembers.

At first, he doesn't realize it's as a ship. He doesn't realize anything.

There's bright lights and yelling, but he assumes it's the stars fading in and out through his eyelids.

_No, don't go_ , he thinks. They're all he has left.

Or maybe the sun returned, ready to bake him again. How much longer?

Or had night not ended at all?

His mouth is still dry, but the taste of salt is gone, the feeling of hardwood having disappeared completely.

He won't open his eyes still, even as he hears voices, mutters, the running of machines.

"Asleep...three days...."

_Three days?_

More like forty-three. He hasn't lost count yet. His mind might be going, but he can do that much at least.

Kuroo isn't a fool.

He knows a hospital when he hears one, can feel the soft sheets under his worn-down body. His grimy skin sticks to them whenever a nurse comes to adjust him. IVs in his arms...a daily check for vitals...

But if he can imagine Tsukishima, what else can he imagine?

The hospital bed rocks every now and again, and it might as well be the boat.

All he can hear is the waves in the back of his mind, and he wonders if the rescue itself was a dream. Is this all still a dream?

It must be.

Yes, he's still back on his boat, his mind conjuring up the impossible. And when he wakes up, his mouth will still taste like salt, the air will smell like kelp and fishbones.

But maybe the stars will be gone, maybe he won't wake up at all; he'll join them, when night falls on his body.

_"Tetsurou!"_

Ah, no.

He can't bear this again. Tsukishima can't be here again, he'd said all Kuroo needed him to say. Anymore will just be an extra stab to Kuroo's heart, an unfair, revitalizing shock as he's so close to death.

He wants to stay, he really does. He wants to be with Tsukishima always, but Tsukishima is gone. Miles away.

Kuroo, in his little boat.

There's a frantic touch to his wrist, a real touch, warm and soft but a little clammy. Kuroo's eyes burst open.

That's not a trick of the mind.

He jerks his head towards the oh so familiar sound, and he's met with  _vibrant_  honey-brown.

Very,  _very_ , crazed honey-brown.

Tsukishima is breathing so hard, Kuroo wants to find him a paper bag. His eyes haven't left Kuroo's pinning him to the spot as his grip shakes, and Kuroo is as steady as the sea.

Still on the surface, violent at the depths.

A pair of doctors blanch at Kuroo's awakening, moving towards Tsukishima with haste. "Sir, you need to--"

But Tsukishima has none of it.

Forty three days.

"Shut up!" the blond snaps, his other hand joining his first, as if Kuroo will up and disappear on him again. His hip is digging into the bed railing, he's trying to get so close. "Tetsurou, can you hear me?"

Kuroo blinks. Yes, he can. He can hear something. But...

He truly can't handle this. Already, his chest feels tight, his eyes stinging from his dysfunctional tear-ducts. He swallows, and his face kinda crumbles. He must look like a child, afraid of the dark. He's been in the dark, so long. "Kei, a-are you real?"

Because if this is a lie, he won't know where to look; what to think. There's nowhere to go, on this boat of his.

But the real Tsukishima can do one thing any phantom can't, he can brighten Kuroo's world, and expand it until it's limitless, until Kuroo has too many places to turn.

Either way, he ends up in Tsukishima's arms, after everything.

Tsukishima gives a shaky, disbelieving laugh, squeezing Kuroo harder. "Do I feel real?"

And it clicks, the waves stop.

Kuroo is grounded again.

With held breath, he looks at his beloved, tracing him as he has a million times before. Tsukishima's hair is unkempt; when Kuroo glances down at his hands, he finds bitten nails. Tsukishima looks like he hasn't slept in forty-three days, his glasses askew, his sweater on backwards.

He's real.

He's here.

Tsukishima seems to realize it too at the same moment; Kuroo's truly come home. His honey-brown eyes tremble, and he nods at seemingly nothing, a silent nudge.

_'Yes, I'm here.'_

And Kuroo hears him, and knows it's Tsukishima's voice this time.

With a sobbing, pathetic whisper of  _Kei_ , his boyfriend falls against him, no matter how awkward or small the angle is. Tsukishima's leg hits the rail as he tries to press himself against Kuroo, and he doesn't care. The doctors clear out, not that either of them notice, and Kuroo scoops him up with the all the strength he has left. It's a last hurrah of his joints and limbs, and Tsukishima's hands don't even hurt the sunburnt skin.

Nothing hurts anymore.

He's still tired, he still needs sleep, but he won't let Tsukishima go if it's the last thing he ever does.

When Tsukishima pulls back from Kuroo's arms, it's only about an inch. There's tears, such a rare Tsukishima sight, Kuroo is sad he can't snap a picture.

It's only then Kuroo realizes he's crying too. Finally, fully crying. Loud and pained, but oh so relieved; his lips crash into Kei's, the kiss drowned in tears.

He tastes salt, but this is oh so much better.

He can feel himself slipping again though, sad to say, but it doesn't worry him much this time around. He'll wake up again. He has a reason to.

Kuroo's eyes begin to droop, and Tsukishima gasp, cradling his forehead as he combs through Kuroo's messy hair. "H-hey,  _Tetsu_ \--"

He's so afraid. Forty-three days. Kuroo knows.

"Mm don't worry," Kuroo mumbles, reaching to tenderly cup Tsukishima's face. Despite Kuroo's scaly skin, Tsukishima leans into it. The blond startles at the words, his eyes still upset, still wanting Kuroo to stay with him. He'll apologize for that too, when he wakes up, and for a lot of things. "I'll be...back..."

Kuroo throws him a lopsided grin, and before Tsukishima responds, he does what he promised the Tsukishima he left on the boat, a ghost of the water. "And then you'll marry me."

His vision darkens, but he can see Tsukishima's face scrunch up, the confusion so adorable and tear-streaked. "What...what are you saying?"

Tsukishima laughs, and Kuroo sinks deeper, relief blooming in his chest.

_Not much,_  he replies in his head. He doesn't have much of his voice left.

His vision tunnels on his boyfriend's face, blurring his edges, until he slowly looks like the moon Kuroo is so familiar with, a backdrop of hospital lights. "I promise," he wheezes out, giving Tsukishima's hand one last squeeze, and then it's quiet.

Sleep is heavy, but he does so gladly, soaking up the energy which has been so deprived from him. When he wakes up, he can settle things, he'll handle  _everything_.

Tsukishima won't have to worry ever again.

As he drifts off, he docks the boat in his mind, leaving it behind on the sand. And despite his nightmares, the memories which will never leave him, he sleeps in Tsukishima's arms for real this time.

He sleeps in his arms from then on, and the darkness doesn't matter.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


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